Chapter 57: DRESS FITTINGS AND HEARTBEATS
The atelier smelled faintly of lavender and silk, an intoxicating mix of luxury and anticipation. Light streamed through the tall arched windows, casting a golden glow across the room where bolts of ivory fabric were draped like clouds over dress forms. Aria stood before a wall-length mirror, barefoot on a small pedestal, her heart racing faster than she wanted to admit.
This was it, the moment every girl imagined at least once. But for Aria, the idea of wearing a wedding dress had always felt like a dream meant for someone else. Not the orphan who had spent most of her life surviving from one day to the next. Not the woman who stumbled into a marriage contract born of necessity rather than romance. And yet here she was, about to become Aria DeLuca, wife to the most dangerous, complicated, and irresistible man she had ever known.
The seamstress stepped back and smiled, pinning the last piece of lace into place. "There," she said softly. "Look."
Aria lifted her gaze, and the breath caught in her throat.
The dress was nothing like she’d expected. Luca had insisted on giving her free rein. "It’s your day, amore mio. You choose everything." And so she had. It was simple yet breathtaking: a fitted bodice embroidered with tiny pearls that shimmered when she moved, a flowing skirt that fell around her in soft waves, and delicate off-shoulder sleeves that framed her collarbones like art. It was elegant without being ostentatious, timeless without being old-fashioned.
But more than how it looked, it was how it made her feel, like the girl she once was and the woman she was becoming had finally met in the middle.
"Do you like it?" the seamstress asked.
Aria swallowed hard. "I... I love it."
A soft knock on the door interrupted the moment. Before she could answer, Luca slipped into the room, ignoring the scandalized gasp of the seamstress.
"You’re not supposed to be here!" Aria protested, her cheeks flushing.
He leaned casually against the doorframe, dark eyes sweeping over her from head to toe. "And miss this?" he murmured. "I’d regret it for the rest of my life."
The seamstress muttered something about bad luck and scurried out, leaving them alone. Aria turned back to the mirror, trying to ignore the way Luca’s gaze burned into her like sunlight.
"You’re staring," she said, her voice softer than she intended.
"Can you blame me?" He walked toward her slowly, as if afraid that if he moved too fast, the vision before him might vanish. "You look... divine."
She laughed, a little breathlessly. "It’s not finished yet."
"It doesn’t need to be." His reflection stopped just behind hers, his hands hovering near her waist as if waiting for permission. When she didn’t move away, he placed them gently on her hips. Their eyes met in the mirror, her nervous and fluttering, his dark and steady.
"This doesn’t feel real," she whispered.
"It’s the most real thing I’ve ever known." His voice was low, the kind of voice that made promises and kept them. "A few months ago, I didn’t even believe people like us got to have this. Peace. A future."
Aria turned slowly to face him, the skirt of the dress rustling softly against the floor. "And now?"
"Now," he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face, "I can’t imagine not having it. Not having you."
Her breath hitched. Luca had always been intense, but there was something about the way he looked at her now, reverent, almost disbelieving, that made her feel like the center of his universe.
"You know," she teased lightly, "tradition says you’re not supposed to see the bride in her dress before the wedding."
"I’ve never been very good at tradition." He smirked, leaning closer until his lips hovered just above hers. "Besides, if the universe gave me a glimpse of heaven, do you really think I’d wait?"
The kiss was gentle at first, careful not to disturb the delicate lace or the pins still holding parts of the dress together. But as his hands slid from her waist to the small of her back, pulling her closer, it deepened, slow and consuming, like a promise sealed in silence.
When they parted, Aria’s head was spinning, her heart drumming in her chest. "If you keep kissing me like that," she murmured, "we’ll miss the cake tasting."
"Let them eat cake without us," he said, and she laughed into his chest.
They sat together on the plush settee by the window, the late afternoon sun painting everything in warm gold. Aria tucked her legs beneath her and rested her head against Luca’s shoulder, the dress cascading around her like a river of silk.
"Do you ever think about the day itself?" she asked quietly. "What it will be like?"
"All the time," he admitted. "I imagine you walking toward me, and everything else fades. No enemies. No blood. No shadows. Just you."
"And then what?"
"Then I promise you the world," he said simply. "Not the kind built on fear or power, but the one you deserve. The one we deserve."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to. The air between them was thick with everything they’d survived to reach this point, the lies, the betrayals, the kidnappings, the heartbreaks. And yet here they were, still choosing each other every single day.
Luca broke the silence first. "My grandmother used to say marriages aren’t built on love alone. They’re built on choosing that love every day, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard."
"She sounds wise," Aria said softly.
"She was terrifying," he corrected with a grin. "But she was right. And I want you to know, Aria, I’ll choose you every day. Even when you’re angry. Even when you’re stubborn. Even when you throw things at me for inviting too many people."
She laughed and poked his side. "I was right about that."
"Of course you were." He kissed her temple. "You’re always right."
They spent the next hour talking about everything and nothing, their honeymoon plans, the house Luca wanted to build by the sea, the stray dog Aria had been feeding that he secretly adored. It was domestic and ordinary in a way neither of them had ever known, and that was what made it extraordinary.
As the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the room, Aria stood once more before the mirror. Luca rose and came to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Together, they looked at their reflection, not a don and his reluctant bride, not two broken souls bound by circumstance, but two people about to step into a life they had built with their own hands.
"Are you ready?" he asked, his lips brushing the curve of her ear.
"For what?"
"For forever."
Aria’s heart swelled so full it almost hurt. She turned in his arms and pressed her palms against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips.
"I think," she said softly, "I’ve been ready for you for a long time."
Luca lowered his forehead to hers, eyes closed as if he were memorizing the feel of her in this moment. "Then let’s make it official. No more contracts. No more conditions. Just us."
"Just us," she echoed.
The dress fitting, the guest list, the flowers, all of it faded into the background. What remained was this: two hearts that had collided in the most unexpected of ways and refused to let go.
And as the last light of day bathed them in gold, Aria knew with absolute certainty that whatever came next, joy or sorrow, peace or storm, they would face it together. Because love, the kind that survived everything they had endured, wasn’t just a choice. It was a promise, and they were both ready to keep it.
The atelier grew quieter as the evening settled in, the soft hum of the city outside barely audible through the thick windows. Aria glanced at the seamstress’s tools, scattered across a nearby table, and imagined the countless brides who had stood in this very spot, each with their own stories, their own dreams. She wondered if any had felt the way she did now, as if the world had tilted just slightly to align her life with Luca’s.
She stepped off the pedestal, the dress trailing behind her like a whisper, and moved to the window. The city sprawled below, a tapestry of lights beginning to flicker against the twilight. Luca joined her, his presence a steady warmth at her side. "What are you thinking?" he asked, his voice gentle.
"I’m thinking about how we got here," she said, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "All the moments that could have broken us, but didn’t. All the times I thought I’d never have a home, and now I’m building one with you."
He took her hand, his fingers lacing through hers. "You’ve always been my home, Aria. Even when I didn’t know it."
Her throat tightened, and she squeezed his hand. They stood there for a long time, watching the city come alive as the stars began to emerge. The dress, the wedding, the future, it all felt like a gift she hadn’t dared to hope for. But with Luca beside her, it was more than a gift. It was a beginning.